


Honeymoon

by orphan_account



Series: the ocean is six miles deep [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Fighting and Making-Up, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Smoking, discussion of marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 17:47:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“People fall out of love. They do it all the time.”</p><p>“That doesn’t mean we will.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honeymoon

**Author's Note:**

> (what a beautiful collection of tags we've got here)
> 
> inspo and quotes taken from lana del rey's honeymoon single. it's very good. you should listen to it.

 ‘ _We both know that it’s not fashionable to love me but you don’t go ‘cause truly there’s nobody for you but me._ ’

Tooru could not remember how he had gotten here. It was a mixture of the side-effects of having too much to drink, he’d lost control after the fifth shot of cherry Schnapps, and the sheer intoxicating effect of Hajime. He remembered walking to Hajime’s apartment with him after that birthday party, and he could remember the filthy words he’d whispered into his ear in the cold night air, though what he could not remember was how he ended up on the floor of Hajime’s bathroom, stoned off his ass.

The windows were closed and the door was shut, and he could see Hajime sitting in the bathtub, staring emptily at Tooru who took another hit. Hajime laughed, then, as Tooru coughed a little, and then looked right back to Hajime. He looked so damn happy, then, perhaps due to solely the high or from the alcohol. He hadn’t done this in a long time, he’d told Tooru, and perhaps that’s why it was so damn strong to him that night. Tooru felt a little ill thinking that he was the catalyst to all of Hajime’s guilty pleasures.

He forgot about it, though, when Hajime grabbed Tooru’s chin towards him, leaning over the edge of the bathtub, and let Tooru exhale into his mouth. He could see his reflection in Hajime’s eyes, which fluttered closed as Tooru lifted the joint to his lips and took a heavier hit than usual. Hajime’s thumb pressed into Tooru’s chin and jaw, tugging at his bottom lip. Tooru parted his mouth, then, and let Hajime inhale the smoke fully.

Hajime’s fingers laced into Tooru’s hair, then, and he let his fingers glide over the soft skin of Tooru’s cheeks and down his neck.

“I want to kiss you,” Hajime whispered, “I want to kiss all of you.”

Tooru laughed, then, spluttering.

“I love you.” Hajime crooned, “I love you so, _so_ much.”

There was a reason he avoided getting high with Hajime. He’d start saying things like this, and he’d be too damn honest, a part of his personality that he kept hidden on most days.

Tooru hummed, and brought his fingers up to Hajime’s lips. He kissed them individually, and it was so intimate and gentle and slow. Tooru giggled and fell forward, burying his head in Hajime’s shoulder.

He passed the joint to Hajime, and he knew he was higher than he had any business being, and he knew this was dangerous, truly, because Hajime and he had just crossed that line of being fucked-up friends-with-benefits to being in a somewhat stable and ordinary relationship. They hadn’t gone on dates, or anything, and their time spent together was primarily used to fool around or drink, or something.

Tooru let his fingers trail underneath Hajime’s shirt, inching it up, and Hajime groaned, exhaling smoke, and he stared up at the ceiling. His skin felt warm underneath Tooru’s fingers, and he dropped the last remainder of joint he was holding between his fingers, then.

“Kiss me.” Hajime said, “C’mon, _kiss me_.”

He really was too damn honest when he was high. Tooru complied anyway, though, and titled his head to let Hajime lean forward, hand on either side of Tooru’s face, and press their lips together. Tooru opened his mouth, lazily, and he was sure that he tasted of beer and cigarette smoke and cherry Schnapps and weed, but if Hajime noticed, he didn’t care; he merely slipped his tongue into Tooru’s mouth and groaned lowly.

They pulled apart after a long while, noisily, and Tooru’s vision was blurring, and the room felt too hot and too cold at the same time. Hajime stared at him, blinking, before Tooru tore off Hajime’s shirt and kissed him once more, hard, as Hajime hastily pulled down Tooru’s trousers, hands pressing into his bare thighs.

Tooru moaned, and stood to sit in Hajime’s lap, in the bathtub, and, suddenly, as Tooru felt Hajime’s hands move up to wrap around him and skim across his spine, he felt all too aware of his presence, and he questioned how he ever caught Hajime’s attention, and why he had it now and what would be responsible for it. Hajime could have been picky with his choice. He could have had anyone, really. He could have had some pretty girl, with a degree in some science, maybe medicine, even, and yet, he was here, in a bathtub with Tooru, of all people; Tooru, with his issues and his lies. After all these years, it was still Tooru.

“ _Shit_ ,” he mumbled as Hajime’s fingers trailed back down his spine to wrap around his waist, “Put them inside; I want to feel you.”

Hajime stopped breathing then, and it felt as though Tooru had been punched in the chest.

“Fuck,” Hajime managed, and then Tooru lifted his hips as Hajime bit along his neck and collarbone. He was shaking, he realised, and maybe both of them were.

It was fluid, from there; it always was. Tooru dug his nails into Hajime’s back as he pressed a finger inside. He was still a little loose from this morning, though just tight enough for it to burn and ache, and maybe it was wrong and fucked up, but he _liked_ it, and by the sounds he was making, Hajime did, too.

Tooru groaned, and spread his legs wider, grabbing Hajime’s wrist and shoving them inside deeper. He was too stoned to do this right, he supposed. Tooru shifted his hips upward, then, and his breath was erratic as he reached out and wrapped his fingers around Hajime’s cock, pulsating and hot and heavy in his hand. It took two passes of his wrist for him to come, and fall apart underneath him, and with a curl of Hajime’s fingers, Tooru came, too, fists clenched and toes curled.

He collapsed against Hajime, and Hajime ran his fingers through his hair. He was more sober, now, Tooru could tell, and his breath was evening out beneath him. He must have been asleep.

“Fuck,” Tooru whispered, eyes closed, with his head pushed into Hajime’s shoulder, skin soft on his cheek, “I’m so _sorry_. I adore you so fucking much. I want this forever. _God_ , I’m so sorry—”

Hajime tore upon his eyes and stared up at the ceiling.

Tooru did not notice. He fell asleep in the bathtub, then, high and a little drunk and cold.

 

 ‘ _We both know the history of violence that surrounds you but I’m not scared, there’s nothing to lose now that I’ve found you._ ’

It’s been three weeks since Tooru moved in with Hajime, in his tiny Kyoto apartment. It’s still been tense, and Tooru is left with the inadvertent feeling of permanence, that it would always be that way.

Even in the mornings, it was horrid, and Tooru sat at the small table in the middle of the kitchen, _their_ kitchen, now, drowning his coffee with a frown. Hajime stood to leave, and his eyes flickered to Tooru’s face before he looked down at Tooru’s untouched plate of food. He looked as though he wanted to say something, _anything_ , but decided against it, and instead, stepped away.

Tooru tightened the grip on his mug. The liquid rippled. He slammed it down on the table as though it had offended him, and stood, hastily, scrambling around in the kitchen drawer for some cigarettes and a lighter.

He placed it between his lips and lit it, hips balanced against the counter.

“Are you ever going to quit smoking?”

Tooru whipped his head around to stare at Hajime.

“What?”

Hajime frowned.

“I think you should quit. It’s disgusting and it’s going to make you really sick later.”

“Well,” said Tooru, “I think you’re full of shit and shouldn’t waste your time worrying about me.”

Hajime stood and kicked his chair. It made Tooru jump, though he wasted no time in returning the glare Hajime gave him.

“What the fuck? I’m worried about you and you think I’m wasting my time? Seriously, Tooru; what the actual _fuck_?”

“Don’t you have something better to do?” Tooru replied, taking a drag of his cigarette. Hajime turned his back then.

“Not really,” he said, squaring his jaw, “I have the day off, so I thought we’d spend some time together, like we used to and like I want us to do, but fucking hell, if you’re going to be like this then I’ll just leave you and your diseased lungs alone.”

Tooru felt his heart drop. He extinguished the cigarette on the counter. It left some marks.

“Maybe you should,” he said, though he didn’t know why, “Maybe you should mind your own goddamn business while you’re at it. You don’t know me, you don’t know me at all, and you never will. Stop deciding my life for me. I thought you hated that sort of thing.”

He did. He told him so all those years ago.

“Oh, sure,” Hajime replied, throwing his hands in the air, “It’s _so_ fucking bad I want you to get old with me without needing a fucking oxygen machine because you fucked up your lungs smoking your entire life.”

“Who says we’re going to be together long enough for that to even happen?”

He’s gone too far. He can tell by the look of sheer hurt on Hajime’s face.

“God,” Hajime sneered, “Fuck you.”

He slammed the front door behind him.

Tooru swore loudly to himself before stomping back to the counter and pulling open the drawer, its contents rattling, and taking out another cigarette. He pulled out the lighter and froze, flame millimetres away from the end of the cigarette. His hand was trembling.

He couldn’t will himself to light it.

The sounds of raindrops snapped Tooru out of his angry haze, and he found a sudden downpour occurring outside. He pulled out his phone. He threw it behind him.

Thunder cracked outside. He turned to look at it. He tore his gaze away.

Lighting struck. He reached behind himself and held his phone, tapping it against his forehead rhythmically before looking down at it. He sighed.

He glared at it for a long while before typing in a hasty, ‘ _Come home_ ’ to Hajime. He sighed once more and leaned back on the counter to wait before staring at the ceiling and wondering whether Hajime would ever come home. He was too damn stubborn, just like Tooru, really.

The door opened, then, and Tooru was quick to dart towards it, though he slowed down once he turned around the corner and saw him. Hajime was soaked, from head to toe, and his hair stuck to his face. He was frowning, and they stared at each other for a long while.

“It started to rain.”

“I noticed.”

“I got wet.”

“I can tell.”

They fell silent once more, and Tooru swallowed hard before turning to retrieve a towel. Hajime stood in the same spot once he returned, and his clothes were dripping water onto the floor. Tooru handed him the towel and he dried himself off wordlessly. He stepped closer towards Tooru. Their eyes met, and Tooru was worried he’d start bawling in front of him.

“I’m sorry.” Tooru said. His voice wavered.

“You’re not the one who walked out like a spoiled brat instead of talking about it.” Hajime replied, quietly, “I went for a walk, though, and it cleared my head so I wasn’t so pissed off anymore. It worked well until it started to rain.”

Thunder cracked outside.

Tooru took a step back and watched Hajime stay quiet as he walked towards the bedroom and changed into dry clothes. Tooru remained in the doorway. Hajime didn’t ask him to move, though, and once he turned around, they stared at each other for a long while.

“I’m sorry,” Tooru repeated, taking a quivering breath, “I should.... I should be glad you worry about my health but it’s such... I’ve been smoking for so... ever since that whole thing with my knee...,” he trailed, and he considered his words. It sounded as though he were a spoiled brat, now, making excuses and all. He sighed.

“I can’t promise anything right now,” he continued, head bowed down low, “Maybe— maybe over time I’ll cut back and eventually... quit.”

Tooru lifted his head and his frowned faded when he finally looked at Hajime, really looked at him. He looked so damn hopeful it _hurt_.

“We should talk,” he said, “We don’t always communicate, so I think we should work on getting better at that.”

“Yeah,” Tooru said, and he choked on the word a little, “We do.”

“I’ve been... You’re right.” he said, lowering his head, “You don’t have to tell me about your past. It doesn’t change who you are now, so I won’t pressure you about it, but... If you want to talk to me, I’ll listen, and if you don’t... It’s fine if you never do.”

“ _Hajime_...” he said weekly, and he could feel his eyes burn with the immediate threat of bawling.

“That’s all I wanted to say, and I’ll keep trying to get better at saying things like that.”

Tooru felt his composure drop and he sobbed, then. Hajime looked confused for a moment, blinking at him, before sighing and wrapping his arms around Tooru’s shaking frame, kissing his forehead.

“I love you,” Tooru whispered, “ _God_ , I love you so much, and I’m so fucking _sorry_ , I keep fucking everything—”

“You don’t fuck everything up. We can fix this.”

Tooru dug his head deeper into his shoulder and sobbed.

“I don’t deserve you,” he wheezed, “You should— it might be better if you just—”

“I _do_ deserve you,” answered Hajime in a quiet voice, “I love you.”

 

 ‘ _There are roses in between my thighs and fire that surrounds you. It’s no wonder every man in town had neither fought nor found you._ ’

In the early morning, Tooru opened his eyes that day it was to darkness, save for the lines of sunshine creeping through Hajime’s blinds. Tooru pried himself out of Hajime’s grip, then, even though he didn’t really want to move. He lifted his head up to peek over Hajime’s shoulder at the electronic alarm clock on the nightstand; five in the morning, the numbers flashed at him.

Tooru groaned and flopped back onto the mattress, and Hajime grumbled beside him, turning on his side and wrapping his arm around Tooru, pushing his head into his shoulder.

“Go back to sleep,” he mumbled, “It’s a Sunday.”

Tooru smiled at that and ran a hand through Hajime’s short hair. He closed his eyes once more.

He woke up five hours later. The blinds were drawn up, now, and the sun poured into the bedroom. The spot beside Tooru was empty, and he sat up, then, grabbing his glasses from the nightstand and running a hand through his hair, though Hajime’s whereabouts were not a mystery for long. He walked back into the room a moment later, feet tapping on the linoleum floor, and wearing nothing but a towel.

“Oh,” he said, “You’re— you’re awake.”

“Yeah,” Tooru answered voice gravely with sleep and sheer exhaustion. He rubbed at his eyes and climbed out of bed.

 “What time is it?” he asked, stepping closer to Hajime and tugging down the t-shirt that trailed at his thighs. It wasn’t really his, truly, it was Hajime’s, though that didn’t really matter anymore; their possessions had bleed into one another, moulded into one entity. It was part of living together, Tooru told himself.

“Ten.” answered Hajime, and he wasn’t smiling, or anything, though he seemed sort of hesitant and expectant. Tooru hummed in appreciation and leaned towards him. He could feel Hajime’s staggered breath fan over his cheeks and jaw, and he was close enough to almost feel the sensation of Hajime’s dry and rough lips press against his own, though he wanted Hajime to break, first.

He did.

Hajime pulled Tooru towards him and cupped his chin and jaw, tilting his head to kiss Tooru on his open mouth. He was warm, and he hadn’t shaved, Tooru thought, though that didn’t really matter to him, not when he was being so gentle and sweet and lazy this early in the morning.

 “Good morning,” Tooru said after they broke away.

“Morning,” Hajime mumbled, and ran a hand through Tooru’s hair.

“God,” said Hajime, after a while, “You’re breath really stinks, at least brush your teeth, or something.”

“You’d kiss me anyway.”

He smiled at that.

“I _guess_.” replied Hajime, and scratched at Tooru’s scalp lightly. Tooru hummed in appreciation and leaned towards the touch.

 “Do you want breakfast, or something?” asked Hajime.

Tooru bit back a smile at that. Hajime was far too kind, really.

He’d always make far too much for breakfast, since he knew that Tooru could not cook. He was too impatient. Hajime wasn’t though, and he’d say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day or some nonsense like that, and provide Tooru with far too much food. He needed meat on his bones, Hajime told him, even though Tooru only ever took a single piece of toast, since he couldn’t eat all too much in the morning. Hajime’s antics had only gotten more persistent since they lived together, now. He was far too good for Tooru, that way.

“Sure,” Tooru replied, “I want to shower first, though.”

Hajime nodded, then, and Tooru grinned.

“Unless...,” he said, “Unless you want to come with me, Hajime?”

Hajime’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Why?” asked Hajime, though it sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Steamy hot shower sex with your gorgeous boyfriend!”

“Do you want me to fall and break my dick off?”

“You’re so unromantic!” answered Tooru, “Hajime, you brute!”

He laughed, then, and slapped Tooru’s ass as he headed towards the bathroom, bare feet tapping on the cold floor of the apartment. Tooru turned over his shoulder to give Hajime a half-hearted glare, though the thought ceased as he looked back to see Hajime fold his arms over his chest and smile gently at Tooru, dark eyes impossibly warm. He really _was_ far too good for Tooru, it seemed.

Tooru took a quick shower and he didn’t bother to get dressed properly, either. He made his way into their small kitchen, then, and Hajime was finishing his usual breakfast banquet. Tooru sat at the table and Hajime placed a plate in front of him, with some toast and scrambled eggs that were arranged in a smiling face. Tooru felt his throat constrict, and he looked up at Hajime, who averted his gaze.

“Just eat it,” he mumbled at sat opposite Tooru at the table, “You need to get some—”

“Meat on my bones, I know,” finished Tooru, “Are you my mother, Hajime?”

Hajime snorted, and Tooru stared back down at the smiling eggs. It was so unlike Hajime, and yet, he wasn’t surprised, or anything. He could see Hajime chew on his lip and avert his eyes in that way he did when he wanted to say something horrifically embarrassing, and Tooru tried to look indifferent, though it was too damn difficult, because he was absolutely terrified the smiling eggs were a lead into something else, something they couldn’t step back from.

Tooru wanted to say something, anything, really, though what could he have said to this person?

A person who loved him knowing he wasn’t the type Hajime’s parents wanted him to be associated with, a person who he woke up next to every morning and slept beside each night, a person who made his meals and mocked his cooking, a person who could slap his ass and fuck him so well and yet hold his hand and make him blush and come home to, and who came home to him, too. There was really only one thing he could say.

“I love you.” he said, and it was so easy.

Hajime dropped his fork.

“Shit,” he swore softly, “I... _Tooru_.” he groaned in annoyance.

Tooru stiffened, then, and Hajime stood, rapidly, his chair screeching against the floor. He grabbed Tooru’s face between his hands, and Tooru gave him one absolutely helpless look before he descended upon him with a flurry of kisses and soft ‘ _I love you_ ’s breathed out between deliriously quiet happy laughter.

“ _Hajime_ ,” he gasped, “You’re so sweet in the mornings.”

“You’re one to talk.” Hajime responded, “You’re wearing my shirt _and_ your glasses. It’s a double threat.”

He rested his forehead against Tooru’s, staring at him through his glasses with hooded and unbelievably warm eyes. Tooru hummed agreeably and slid his eyes closed as Hajime ran his fingers through his hair.

“Hey,” spoke Hajime after a long moment, “Do you.... never mind.”

“Huh?” asked Tooru.

“No, it’s... it’s nothing.” responded Hajime, and he was blushing, now.

“I’m sure it’s not.” laughed Tooru.

Hajime sighed, then. His breath was shaking and he stared up into Tooru’s eyes.

“Do you... do you want to get married?”

Tooru felt all the strings inside him break. He hadn’t really ever considered marriage before, not with some pretty girl, and not with some horrid brute of a man, either, with strong arms and a deep voice, and yet the thought of staying together with Hajime wasn’t one he could simply dismiss. It was terrifying. He wanted to keep building a life together with him. He’d told him so many months ago, when they’d moved in, that he wanted to buy plates with him and own a dog together, and all, and they were still looking for a dog, they were some disagreement on whether it should be a female or a male, and had bought plates, along with other domestic items.

Tooru wanted to be with Hajime until they’d grow old and could reflect on everything. Hajime was going to graduate, soon, with a masters degree and all, and Tooru had found work in a law clinic. They were on the path of having their shit together, for once, and although things weren’t perfect, nothing ever was, Tooru thought that he was ready for commitment, perhaps not now, but someday, in the future. He could picture himself standing at the altar with Hajime. He never thought he would, but he _could_.  

Tooru wanted Hajime to know that; he wanted him to know that, no matter how far away Hajime goes, he’d always have someone to come home to. Tooru wanted to be that person, and maybe he sort of already was, and he wanted Hajime to understand that he’d always want to be that person. 

All he could manage, though, was a weak, “ _What?_ ” and he was sort of worried Hajime would misunderstand his sheer surprise as rejection.

“I said,” Hajime repeated, “Do you maybe want to get married? I mean,” he swallowed thickly, “Not now, _obviously_ , but... someday, maybe? With me?”

Tooru inhaled a shaky breath and closed his eyes.

“That’s a lot of words, Hajime,” he said, “It should only be four.”

“It’s not a proposal.” he responded.

“It sure sounds like one.” said Tooru, and Hajime frowned, just a little.

“It’s _not_ one.” he said.

“Good,” sighed Tooru, “I’ll be expecting much more than that. A helicopter, maybe. You could jump out of it and then explodes and you get down on one knee with this _huge_ diamond ring as I climb out of my pool in front of my villa. It _has_ to be a huge diamond, though. I’m pretty expensive.”

Hajime laughed at that.

“You wish,” he said, “I’m only a poor student. _You’re_ the rich lawyer here.”

Tooru laughed then, too.

“ _God_ ,” he replied, “If only it were true...”

Hajime hummed in agreement, then.

“Do you mean it, though?” Tooru asked, “I mean, do you really want to marry me someday?”

“Sure,” answered Hajime, “I do. It kind of... It kind of fits with spending the rest of my life with you.” he finished in a small voice.

“Oh.” Tooru said weakly.

“It’s terrifying, though,” Hajime whispered, “Since.... I don’t... I don’t want you to fall out of love with me.”

“Out of love?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I mean, I’ve known you for a pretty long time, and I love you more and more and I just...”

“I love you, Hajime.” Tooru said softly.

“I know,” he replied, “People fall _out_ of love. They do it all the time.”

“That doesn’t mean _we_ will.”

“I’m not saying—”

“No,” Tooru interrupted, his voice sterner, this time, “You don’t understand; I love you, now, and I’ll love you tomorrow, too. I’ll love you as long as you’ll let me, remember?”

Hajime _did_ remember, that night in the kitchen when he’d confessed to Tooru, all those years ago. He could see it on Hajime’s face, because he smiled, slowly, and then all at once.

“Yeah, I remember.” he answered.

“Good.” Tooru said, with misplaced seriousness, and Hajime let out a choked laugh, nodding before licking his lips. He looked at Tooru as though he wanted to say something or do something, but he merely stared at him with a nervous, shaking smile that reminded Tooru of when they met in the train during high-school.

Tooru smiled at him then, too, and leaned up to kiss him once more, lips soft and gentle, so gentle it hurt. He broke away, then, and Hajime kissed the top of his forehead. Tooru giggled at that, and he was nearly delirious, though it was such a good feeling that he didn’t even care, not when Hajime’s sweet smile was directed at him and only him.

“I’m so happy.” he said, voice croaking.

“Me too.” replied Hajime in a whisper.

“You know what would make me even happier, though?” Tooru asked with a bright grin.

“What?” Hajime questioned exasperatedly.

“A dog.”

**Author's Note:**

> : )


End file.
